3.5 stars - So this is my first MalaysianLit book and it was a wonderful start! Overall, I did enjoy it despite having major disagreements with particular things. But I’ll get to that later.
Based in Kuala Lumpur and Ipoh, we follow Jasmine Leong, the CEO of a multi-million ringgit business known for selling “bak kwa”, a Chinese pork jerky delight. In her forties, she is well established, yet unhappy in her own personal life, entertaining a forbidden romance. However, when secrets of her past and ethnicity come to the fore, the meddling of religion, politics and identity threaten to tear down her family business and everything she’s worked for.
Firstly, I loved the writing. It flowed seamlessly and was extremely readable, which meant I easily sped through the pages. Description is a superpower of Karina Robles Bahrin, and she very much encapsulated a lot of what I grew up knowing in KL and Malaysia. You know, something I’ve noticed a lot when reading SingaporeanLit is that in the quest to write about the local experience in English, it just comes out… awkward. As if, in a hurry, authors try to cram every Singaporean delicacy and quirk into their writing in order to really establish their setting. It kind of comes off like: “Bill loved his hometown New York, the Big Apple, and every Sunday, would grab a deli pizza slice, weave his way through Central Park to perch on the steps of the Met.” In other words, very in your face. But Bahrin naturally manages to escape the clichés and effortlessly ties in uniquely Malaysian things into the story without straining to do so. This is something I really appreciated coming from the angle of someone finding pleasure in reading about their own country and people!
The story arc and the central conflict was VERY interesting, although I could imagine for someone lacking patience it may not be the best read. The reason for this lies in Jasmine herself - the main character. Simply put, Jasmine is a very annoying person. She is someone I knew for a fact I’d dislike in real life, but also managed to be someone I rooted for. Aside from being entitled, selfish and judgemental, she’s also not very bright. She constantly spilled the beans on what should be highly coveted secrets, and then would later wonder why her dirty laundry had been aired out. But for some reason, she wasn’t so awful to read about which is what made this book intriguing to me. Warning: her cringeworthy romantic interests also felt like cardboard cutouts of “generic Asian male lead”.
Also, in general, conversations felt forced. I could instantly tell when the author was in uncharted territory, as if she’d copy and paste generic dialogue lines into conversations she wasn’t at home writing. There’s a lot of short, abrupt, emotionally-charged talks. Some scenes seemed like caricatures of real life where characters would lose their cool without warning in a conversation that just started - dramatically wailing, throwing fists or cursing someone to die. Dialogue is not Bahrin’s forte.
Now, here I will reveal my primary issue with the book and why it loses a couple of stars as a result. Look, I believe in artistic liberty and for writers to freely converse on whatever topic takes their fancy. Bahrin has chosen religion and politics here, which invites a back and forth of thoughts between the reader and the literature. I like that, and respect it.
However, I take issue with the portrayal of Islam and Malays. I’m not either of these - I’m half Malaysian, half Singaporean, and in both countries, I come from minority communities and religions, including Chinese. It’s true, Malaysia is not a sectarian country in any sense and its laws are extremely discriminatory to its minorities. In that vein, it is not progressive by far although it pretends to be. The race riots of 1969 are still fresh in the mind of those alive today, and the event has been hot-branded into the collective memory of millions of second-class citizens, despite the harmonious intermixing of races we have in present day - at least, in some parts of Malaysia, at the surface level. Nonetheless the way she writes about Malays and Muslims gave me the ick sometimes - literally using disdainful phrases like “you people”. And I know that the author is half Malay herself and thus contending with her own identity through the book, much like Jasmine is. However, Jasmine growing up Chinese and completely identifying as Chinese makes me feel as if I’m reading about a Chinese woman insulting Malays, irrespective of her ethnically being half Malay - to me, her newfound ancestry didn’t give her any green light to speak the way she does. She reeks of prejudice and the R-word element of the book consistently made me uncomfortable. I understood and sometimes empathised with a lot of the points she made, but delivery left a lot to be desired. Curiously, non-villainized Malay characters were also few and far between.
These are simply my personal opinions and I really hope I’m not misinterpreting what Bahrin intends, but at the same time, as I read on, my apprehension only mounted and I couldn’t deny my observations. Otherwise, the sociopolitical landscape she surfaces with this story is a cold, hard truth that Malaysians need to look into. Even though Jasmine has the luxury of money and privilege to fix her issues (and conveniently, the plot resolution), it doesn’t do away with the dirty underbelly of this country.